The Future's Open Wide
by Jedi Buttercup
Summary: Buffy rolled her eyes. "Not to step on both your fragile male egos, but they attacked me first. And you might have noticed the lack of octopi on their uniforms?"
1. The Future's Open Wide

**Title:** The Future's Open Wide

**Author:** Jedi Buttercup

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** The words are mine; the worlds are not.

**Summary:** _"Not to step on both your fragile male egos," Buffy rolled her eyes, "but they attacked me first. And you might have noticed the lack of octopi on their uniforms?"_ 1700 words.

**Spoilers:** Post-series for B:tVS, and post-Captain America 2 in the MCU.

**Notes:** 24 Days of Ficmas 2013, Day 17: for polgara_5. Prompt: "Buffy, Clint, Tony (pairings not necessary); Buffy wasn't quite sure how she ended up as part of the trio, but her life was definitely not boring." Originally posted to LJ on 10/25/14. Title is a lyric reference.

* * *

Exhaustion pulled at Buffy like an undertow, as if someone had sneakily turned up the gravity when she wasn't looking. She sighed, rubbing at the back of her neck where the tendons along her spine ached with high-strung tension, and tried to blink away the dry, sandy feeling hovering at the back of her eyes. It had been a long, long day.

"Adrenaline crash is a bitch, isn't it?" She felt the words as much as heard them, vibrating through her torso from the new friend pressed up against her right side. He sounded nearly as weary as she felt.

Buffy groaned and let her head fall over against his shoulder. He'd been a good half a foot taller than her when they were both on their feet- especially after she'd snapped a heel on her brand new, wine-colored workday heels and kicked them off- but slumped on a park bench, they were close enough in height to provide her with a well-muscled pillow without any awkward stretching.

A _very_ well-muscled pillow. She would totally be seeing those biceps in her dreams again, later. But at the moment, she was having enough trouble just keeping her eyes open, never mind eyeing up her temporary slayage partners.

She'd kept up with the news ever since aliens and magic had finally gone mainstream a couple of years before, of course, and had no desire to challenge _either_ of the scary redheads in their lives. But she didn't think they'd blame her for a little female admiration. Because: seriously. Hawkeye's physique was all the evidence _she_ needed that God was a woman, and Iron Man's moves were nothing to sneeze at, either. Even- or maybe especially- considering all he'd had with him was his flimsy suitcase suit, rather than one of the heavy-duty battlesuits that he usually appeared in on the news.

"Someone stop the world, I want to get off," she complained, wearily.

Her Slayer healing would take care of the fresh bruises, scrapes, and exhaustion soon enough, but at the moment she ached like crazy, and she hadn't even dared to look at her knees yet. It wasn't the way they were stiffening up that bothered her, it was the way her suit pants clung, stickily, to the skin. She'd hit her knees _hard_ on the sidewalk outside her office in the same stumble that had ruined her heels, unable to catch herself with her arms full of injured bystander. The attackers who'd chased her through the building hadn't seemed to care much about collateral damage, and if she hadn't fallen nearly at the feet of a pair of out-of-uniform Avengers, that might have been the end of the longest-lived Slayer's career. Luckily, the bad guys had left the civilians alone once they had _three_ foes to worry about.

"Should have thought of that a couple of hours ago," Stark replied, slouched back against the bench on the other side of her. He wasn't as touchy-feely as- what _was_ Hawkeye's actual name, anyway?- but he seemed equally loathe to split, after what they'd just been through. He was still wearing what was left of the suitcase armor: most of the torso, both legs, and one of the repulsor gauntlets, but he'd lost the helmet at some point. "I think you missed your chance."

Buffy sighed, reluctantly straightening back up. "Oh, I'm sure they'd be back, if I waited long enough. I don't think the rest of my friends would appreciate it much, though. Sorry about all this, by the way. You guys have enough enemies, you didn't need mine added to the list."

Hawkeye, who had been sitting with his head tipped back, staring up at the clouds, also straightened as she spoke, furrowing his brow in her direction. He made a picture worthy of a painting, complete with scowl, tee shirt torn and stained, and blood streaked through dirty blonde hair several shades darker than hers. The bow slung over one shoulder- a neat collapsy model that he'd produced out of his own briefcase, even sexier in Buffy's opinion than the arms that had wielded it- completed the image: _superhero, bloodied but unbowed_.

"What do you mean?" he asked, intently. "Those guys were after _us_. Me, really."

Stark ran the ungauntleted hand over his face, backing his friend up before Buffy could interject. "Right. I went over the files SHIELD uploaded with JARVIS and a fine-toothed comb to take down anything that impacted the Avengers, including the targeting specs HYDRA fed Project Insight, but I guess I didn't get it down fast enough. How else would they have known where to 'x' the map for Clint Barton? You've been off everyone else's radar for months."

Barton- so _that_ was his name- snorted. "Figures. Guess it's a good thing I called Hill, instead of Sitwell, to find out what the hell was going on; if you hadn't come by to pick me up..."

The never-quite-banished cheerleader portion of Buffy's personality wanted very badly to squeal with glee that she'd apparently been working in the same neighborhood as one of the Avengers for _months_; but the veteran Slayer held majority vote these days, and rolled her eyes instead.

"Not to step on both your fragile male egos: but they attacked me _first_. And you might have noticed the lack of octopi on their uniforms? And the fact that most of them were carrying antique weapons instead of guns?"

"You're talking to the Avenger whose primary weapon is a _bow_," Barton replied, very dryly; his tone was light, but his eyes were shrewd. "I suppose it seemed a _little_ unusual, but after fighting alongside a guy with a sentient hammer, and taking down a god who loved his spears and knives..."

Buffy remembered wielding her own superhammer, against another god who preferred to take the fight in her own manicured hands. "...Point."

"...But you make an interesting point, too," Stark said. "Namely, that we somehow completely failed to introduce ourselves. Hi, I'm Tony Stark!"

He extended his gauntleted hand, obviously a test; she took it without flinching. "I gathered. Buffy Summers, pleased to meet you."

"...Holy _shit_," Barton breathed, eyes widening in comprehension.

Wasn't _that_ interesting. Buffy grinned, and turned to him next. "Pleased to meet you, too, Mr. Shit," she said, sweetly.

His eyebrows flew up; behind her, she heard Stark snort in amusement. "Very funny," Barton continued. "I'd heard that about you, too; death in a tiny package, mouth as lethal as her fists."

"Really," she replied, pleasantly surprised. She'd known that word would eventually spread among the other secret communities after she and her friends started gathering all the Slayers under one banner; but she'd worried that none of them would take a petite blonde seriously.

"Heard from _whom_? Flatter her later, Barton; c'mon, fill me in."

"That is a long, _long_ story I wouldn't believe if Natasha hadn't been the one to tell it; but suffice to say, she could give Nat a run for her money."

"Seriously? _Romanov_?" Stark's eyebrows went up as he eyed Buffy again, from dusty head to stubbed toes, and addressed her more directly. "Okay... yeah, I guess I can see it. But why would you assume that means they were after _you_, not Barton?"

"Let's just say my organization has been around since before the Middle Ages. The weapons thing? Kind of traditional in our circles. And then there's the fact that my day job is at _least_ as insulated from public databases as I guess yours was supposed to be." She nodded at Hawkeye. "In fact..."

She shifted in her seat, groaning as she retrieved the smart phone she'd tucked at the small of her back; the screen was cracked, but it still lit up. A number of message alerts scrolled up the lock screen, full of capital letters, punctuation, curse words, and demands to know whether she was okay. "Looks like they hit a lot of us today. Must've got my people's names just like you said- we'd been negotiating with SHIELD, and those Nazi wannabes wouldn't be on our Christmas list anyway. If they sold our locations..."

She sighed, and started the process of heaving herself to her feet. "Guess I'd better check in."

"Hey, wait a minute," Stark objected, dented metal joints creaking as he followed suit. "I don't care how badass you are, you aren't going anywhere 'til you're patched up. Call in, let your folks know you're alive, and... hey, is there a shawarma joint around here?"

Clint's shoulders slumped again, as tension began bleeding back out of him. "Not shawarma this time; nothing against it, Stark, but I'm more in a pizza and beer kind of mood." He smiled wryly at Buffy. "Might as well give in, it's kind of a post-fighting tradition by now."

Buffy couldn't help but smirk back; sounded like the Avengers had their own version of the H and H's. This might have been a way more dramatic first meeting with their people than she'd ever intended, but she approved of what she'd seen. They were _all_ gonna need whatever allies they could get as SHIELD's implosion shook up the shadow landscape.

"Comfort food? Sold," she smiled back, and held out her hand again. "If you let me look at your bow later. I'm a pretty decent shot with a crossbow, but I've never tried one like yours."

"You drive a hard bargain," he said, but took her hand, warm callused fingers enveloping hers as she levered him to his feet.

"Pizza it is, then! Happy's on his way; you can call your friends in the car on the way to the Tower," Stark interrupted. "Admiration society later, remember?"

"Aw, Stark, are you feeling left out?" Barton snarked.

"Gimme a minute, and I'm sure I can come up with something appropriate..." Buffy mused.

Stark reacted with a hand to his chest, as if hurt... but there was a familiar glint in his eye: the kind of guy who gave as good as he got.

Buffy still wasn't exactly sure how she'd got there, or what would happen next; but whatever it was, in these guys' company? She doubted she'd ever be bored.

-x-


	2. The More We Get Together

**Title:** The More We Get Together (The Happier We'll Be)

**Author:** Jedi Buttercup

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** The words are mine; the worlds are not.

**Summary:** _Tony brightened as he caught sight of Buffy. "Ah, if it isn't my favorite fellow member of the twenty million club! Long time, no see; where've you been? Any more assassination attempts?"_ 3000 words.

**Spoilers:** Post-series, and post-Captain America 2 in the MCU.

**Notes:** This part for pprfaith, who asked for "Buffy + Clint + Tony, a continuation of The Future's Open Wide? You wrote their first meeting, I'd like to see them as settled friends, potentially confusing the other Avengers? Just a little?" Title from the kid's song; mostly snarky dialogue. Originally posted to LJ on August 9.

* * *

Buffy tilted her head back to look up the long, long sweep of glass to the glowing A at the top of Stark Tower, then pressed the back of one hand to her mouth to suppress a jaw-cracking yawn. Her high-heeled sandals dangled from the other; she flexed her toes against the gritty sidewalk, then faced forward again and headed for the doors to the main lobby.

It was only seven in the evening, but it had been a ridiculously exhausting day, not so much from the impromptu slayage a few blocks over- some idiot vampire had apparently been enterprising enough to try turning a Chitauri during the invasion, now _that_ had been a face only a mother demon could love- but from the hours and hours of the Sineya Council's quarterly director's meeting beforehand. After combining the two? She totally intended to take Tony up on his open offer to visit, rather than trudge back home to her solo apartment and spend the next few hours on yet _more_ reports. Ugh.

A man talking into his cell phone held the door absent-mindedly as she approached. She murmured thanks, then padded across the cool tile inside; there was enough of a crowd in the lobby to keep attention off the petite, disheveled blonde moving with the flow. During business hours, a constant flood of people crossed to and from the elevators or offices on the first floor; there weren't so many now, but there was still a line at the internal Starbucks. Buffy wouldn't be surprised if Tony had purposefully arranged to have it open at all hours, just to keep the clock-challenged kids on his R &amp; D floors in late night caffeine.

She made it almost all the way to the private elevator before one of the guards noticed something was out of place. Sloppy, very sloppy; she'd have to tease Tony about that after she told him about the vamp Chitauri. She had a feeling his expression would be much the same for both.

"Ma'am," the young woman with the Bluetooth in her ear said, eyes darting from the indeterminate spatter on Buffy's blouse to the shoes and then back up to Buffy's face. "Are you all right?"

"Who, me?" She gave the guard her best winsome look, waving her free hand at her as she kept walking. "Oh, I'm fine. Just, uh, stubbed my toes, that's all."

Alas, the look didn't work nearly as well on most women as it did most men. The guard's brow furrowed, and she took several slow steps to angle herself between Buffy and the elevator, gesturing toward the far side of the lobby. "I'm sorry, but that's a private elevator. If you're looking for the nurse's station on the third floor, the public elevators are over..."

She made a grab as Buffy sidestepped neatly around her, pirouetting to put her back to the doors. They swooshed open behind her to the welcoming British tones of Tony's AI- and the guard's obvious astonishment. "Ms. Summers. What a pleasure to see you again."

"Pleasure's all mine, J," she replied, giving the guard a cheery little wave as she stepped backward over the threshold. "Invite still open to the balcony level?"

"But of course," it replied, as it closed the doors in the guard's face. "There is, in fact, a gathering scheduled for this evening to introduce Mr. Rogers' friend to the Avengers; you will find Sir and Mr. Barton both in residence."

"Perfect." She smiled, and relaxed to enjoy the ride.

When the doors opened again, she stepped out into a much more intimately sized space- though still big enough to swallow her entire apartment. There were seating areas, a bar, and windows out onto both a walkway balcony and a larger quinjet landing space; doors and archways led from the main room into other semipublic areas. She'd been there a couple of times before, and was familiar with the layout. The lights were on, and one of the people Buffy had most expressly come to see was sprawled on one of the palely upholstered couches, feet kicked out and right hand dangling over the padded arm. He was in something long-sleeved and comfortable today, the better to use as a post-slayage bolster.

"Oh good, you _are_ here," she said, making a beeline for the empty half of the couch. She let her shoes drop to the floor several paces away, then followed suit onto the cushion next to Clint, leaning over and burying her cheek in the little muscle-y dip between his bicep and the ball of his shoulder. "You make the _best_ post-action pillow. Now if only I had a cup of JARVIS' best hot chocolate, my evening would be complete."

"And hello to you too," he said dryly, ruffling her hair with his free hand. "I take it this would be the kind of hot chocolate with plenty of Kahlua?"

"World of duh. Lay off, I'm windblown enough already; also, not your pet," she murmured against his sleeve.

"Aw, you're not? Guess I'll have to return that collar I bought," he replied in a bright, aw-shucks tone.

She tipped her head back to give him a skeptical eyebrow. "It would serve you right if I asked to try it on. What would certain other parties have to say about that?"

A choking sound carried over from the nearest chair. She hadn't paid any more attention to Clint's company than necessary to be sure he wasn't a threat, but she didn't recognize his voice; so, probably the new friend JARVIS had mentioned. "Wait, what just happened here?" he said.

Another pair of footsteps came up from the other side of the couch; light, balanced, precise, a lot like a Slayer's. "Clint has a bad habit of picking up strays; I'd heard about this one, but hadn't met her yet. Hi, Sam."

"Hey, Natasha."

"Hey, whatever; it's only half my fault this time," Clint interjected. "I'm sharing custody of this one with Tony, remember?"

"I remember you telling me that; I don't remember you explaining," the amused female voice replied. "And since when did he stop being Stark to you, anyway?"

"I _am_ right here, you know," Buffy sighed in exasperation, shifting to get a better look at the guy in the chair. Dark skin, trim facial hair not nearly as evil-Spock-goatee as Tony's, impressively toned muscles; definitely the winged guy from the news. There'd been a couple of clips circulating on YouTube showing him catching Captain America, and- she had to admit, the Falcon jetpack was maybe even sexier than Clint's bow. "Thought I didn't need to be Secret Agent Girl to the Avengers?"

"Aw, c'mon," Clint said, glancing down at her with a wry expression. "I had to have at least a _little_ fun with this. I wanted to see the look on both their faces when I told her the story."

"Which part? That comedy of errors slash first meeting slash fight? Or the part afterward, where..."

"Whichever," he cut her off with a grin. "Speaking of which. Hey, Tony!" He raised his voice as another person entered the room.

"Is that my name I hear being taken in vain? What's up, Buttercup?" the tower's owner replied, brightening visibly as he caught sight of Buffy. "Ah, if it isn't my favorite fellow member of the twenty million club! Long time, no see; where've you been? Any more assassination attempts since the last time we saw you?"

"_Favorite_?" Clint scoffed. "I see how it is. I'm telling Banner you said that."

"No protest on your own behalf? Or his girlfriend's?" Mr. Avenger Adjacent Sam retorted, glancing between Clint, Tony, and Buffy with a curious expression.

"Pepper doesn't count; she already shares twelve percent custody. Or, twelve percent of my share, so... six percent? And Katniss doesn't count either; he totally agrees with me. Tell the man, Clint."

"Still right here," Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Then sit up and join the conversation, Lazybones," Tony grinned at her. "Faking exhaustion to get your grabby hands all over the man's admittedly excellent arms is so five minutes ago; it'll win you no concessions today."

"Spoil my zen, why don't you?" she pouted, but obeyed. She didn't want to overstep, anyway; Clint had been good with that particular display of friendly affection since their first post-battle crash, but their comradeship was still pretty new, and she didn't want to push any boundaries.

The woman behind them drew in a sharp breath as she got a good look at Buffy's face, then finished circling the couch and dropped gracefully into the chair at the end of the couch opposite Sam's. "Okay, I forgive you, Clint. Your reputation precedes you, Ms. Summers; your people speak well of you."

"Ms. Romanov," Buffy replied, with a respectful nod to Clint's preferred working partner. "So do yours."

"Oooh, please tell me you're going to spar while you're both here," Tony interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest as he glanced avidly between them. "I would pay you literally anything you asked for if you let me watch."

"Not as long as I have control of your checkbook," Pepper Potts said dryly, joining the conversation by way of stepping out of the elevator. She was wearing a lavender power suit of a similar cut to the professional yet stylish gray outfit Buffy had worn to her own meetings, though with much more expensive, and probably more comfortable, shoes. "Ignore him. Hello, Buffy; JARVIS told me you'd stopped by. It's good to see you again."

"Since I'm not delivering a bruised-up Tony wearing only two-thirds of his armor this time, you mean," Buffy beamed at her. She'd liked Pepper since their first meeting; she reminded Buffy more than a little of a business-oriented Tara. "I'd get up and hug you, but I think I've done enough damage to your cleaning bill as it is."

"Nonsense, we're all friends here," Pepper insisted, approaching and holding out her hands.

How could she say no to that? Buffy pushed to her feet and obliged, doing her best to keep the worst of the ick from transferring from her clothes to Pepper's immaculate outfit.

Pepper smiled at Sam next. "And Mr. Wilson; it's good to meet you. I'm Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries."

"Among other things... which are absolutely not more important to her identity than the professional position she earned through hard work and excels at _much_ more thoroughly than I ever did," Tony added dryly, though the smile he aimed at Pepper softened the statement considerably.

"She certainly has _you_ well trained," Clint smirked- then cleared his throat as Pepper's coolly amused gaze shifted his way. "As, of course, is only her due."

"You're learning," Natasha commented, lips curved in amused approval.

"Are you kidding me? With the number of women in _my_ life who could kill me without even trying? I'm not _that_ pretty," Clint clapped a dramatic hand against his chest.

"I take it you'd be one of them, then, ma'am?" Sam said politely, ignoring the rest of the byplay. "Don't mean to press; but since I seem to be the only person who hasn't met you, or at least heard of you..."

"It's not just you, don't worry," yet another voice chipped into the conversation. "Good to see you, Sam; you're early. And I don't believe I've had the pleasure?"

Buffy blinked at the sight of Steve Rogers approaching the group; years of being a superhero herself had largely overridden childhood indoctrination from a Cap-fan father and comic enthusiast BFF, but had done little to prepare her for his sheer presence. And she didn't just mean his physique; most of the people she ran into who generated that much personal gravity tended to use it for the _other_ side, not the good guys. Luckily, she'd met Clint and Tony already; that gave her something of a buffer.

(Given the sheer number of epic personalities on their team capable of spawning rabid cults of celebrity should they ever try, it was probably a good thing they'd weaponized their senses of humor as much as their intensity.)

"Pleasure's mine; and I mean that," she said as she shook his hand. "You'd already saved my life the day I met them, actually; I was on HYDRA's list too, me and my people. We wouldn't be here if you hadn't done what you did. Thank you." She turned from his half-sheepish expression to nod to Sam, shaking his hand next. "And you. I'm Buffy Summers, from the Sineya Council."

"Sam Wilson," he replied. "And no thanks necessary. I was with the VA, before all this went down. Now I do what he does, just slower." He grinned, jerking a thumb at Rogers. "It's just the right thing to do."

"Yeah, no thanks necessary," Tony sniffed, interjecting himself back into the conversation. He'd drifted off to the bar after greeting Pepper; now he gestured in her direction with a coffee mug, before setting it on the table in front of the couch. "Us superheroes need to stick together, you know."

"And how much didn't you notice that I wasn't thanking _you_?" she teased him, then picked up the mug, breathing deeply. "Oooh, from JARVIS? I was hoping he'd heard me."

"All seeing, all hearing, except in _some_ people's guest bedrooms because they're a little paranoid about their privacy," he smirked. "Good?"

She took a sip, then nodded: it was the promised chocolate and marshmallows and Kahlua, but _much_ smoother than anything that came out of a mix or a bargain liquor store, with just a hint of extra spice. "Mmm. Still not thanking _you_ though. JARVIS?"

"You are very welcome, Ms. Summers," the AI chipped in, smugly.

"Aw, what does a guy have to do to get a little appreciation around here?" Tony gave an exaggerated pout.

"_Still_ sore about that?" Clint chuckled.

"Sam's right, we were just doing what needed to be done," Rogers said, a curl at one corner of his mouth hinting that he wasn't so much _ignoring_ the intervening teasing as provoking it further by pretending to ignore it; ooh, good tactic. Xander was going to die when he heard about this little get together. "I'm sure you're used to that; I think I've heard of your Council. You deal primarily with small-scale supernatural threats?"

She had to laugh at that. "I'd argue with your definition of _small-scale_, but I admit, only a couple of the things I've faced have lived up to the kinds of things the Avengers deal with. That's actually why I'm here; I didn't intend to crash your party, I just thought I should mention I ran into a vamped Chitauri, in case Tony had any way of tracking them to see if there might be more. Their intelligence level apparently goes up when they're detached from their big boss, just so you know; it wasn't easy to take down."

"I'm sorry, did you just say _vampire_?" Pepper replied first, sounding startled. "First Norse gods, now _vampires_? How many myths out there _aren't_ real?"

"Unfortunately, not as many as we might hope," Natasha commented, amusement draining out of her at the news. "I've encountered vampires before; most of them are at least as strong as Steve."

"You can think of them as aliens too if that helps; animate energy forces from another dimension who kill people, infect their bodies, take them over, and live to spread that infection to as many more as they can." That had been Tony's attempt at a magic-avoiding explanation, anyway; hopefully it would work for the rest of them, too.

"Sounds like the last thing we want is them finding out that there's better host bodies out there," Clint frowned. "You think that one had got the news out yet? It's been two years since the invasion; enough time for rumors to spread, at least."

"Notice how not invaded we are? I think we've got enough time to stomp out his nest, and then..."

"No alien vamps, no evidence it was more than rumor," Tony concluded. "Yeah, I got a good up-close look at the Chitauri and some of their tech before SHIELD swept up the scraps- Bruce and I ought to be able to work something out. You haven't met him yet, have you? Dr. Banner?" He glanced around the room. "Where is the Big Guy, anyway?"

"He said he'd be meditating before the party- he might have lost track of time," Natasha said.

"Well, I still have to change into something more comfortable- I'll look in on him on my way back," Pepper offered. She reached up to touch Tony's face as she turned to go, giving him a private smile that made his eyes light up. "Tony? Be good while I'm gone."

"Square deal," he smirked. Then he turned back to Sam as she departed. "So, Wilson. How 'bout some embarrassing stories of Cap from DC? I know you've got to have a few."

Sam gave him a skeptical eyebrow; apparently, he could keep up with Rogers there, too. "No, see, I think we were promised the story of a 'comedy of errors slash first meeting slash fight' first?"

"Nah, you don't want to hear that boring old story," Tony immediately scoffed, expression turning wary.

"But I do," Natasha interjected. "And seeing as how it's supposed to be Sam's party..."

"Sounds like a fair exchange to me," Rogers put in, smile broadening as he found a seat of his own. "I'd like to hear about the not so small-scale threats you've faced as well, if Sam doesn't mind."

Buffy sat back down, retrieving her mug again, and gestured to Clint. "Sure. Clint first, though- and don't give me that look, you volunteered!"

"I guess I did, didn't I?" Clint heaved a sigh. Then he sat up, pulling an arrow from where he'd tucked it between the couch cushions, and twirled it between his fingers as he began.

-x-


	3. An Infinitesimal Problem

**Title:** An Infinitesimal Problem

**Author:** Jedi Buttercup

**Rating:** T/PG-13; gen

**Disclaimer:** The words are mine; the worlds are not.

**Summary:** _Apparently, the guy had __**ridden a flying ant**__. Good grief, and Dawn had thought her life __**before**__ the Hellmouth's collapse had been weird._ 1700 words.

**Spoilers:** Post-series, and post-Ant-Man in the MCU.

**Notes:** Set in the same universe as "The Future's Open Wide" and "The More We Get Together (The Happier We'll Be)", on the opposite coast; because I saw Ant-Man and was unexpectedly charmed. Originally posted to LJ on August 15.

* * *

"I hate to say it, Xander," Willow said unhappily, looking down at the plans spread over Dawn's kitchen table, "but I don't think we're going to be able to get in there."

"What?" Xander widened his eyes, looking betrayed. "But Wills, we have to. She hasn't come out since they took her in; you know what they're probably doing in there. This is like Oz and the Initiative all over again."

"I know, Xander; believe me, I know. But what I'm looking at here..." Willow shook her head.

Dawn brushed a fingertip over the blueprints, tracing the white lines of doors and hallways and security systems, forehead wrinkling as she tried to see what Willow had seen. They had a genius hacker slash powerful witch and the rest of the Slayers in the local team on their side; no matter how tough the security measures, anything that was intended to stop a standard issue human being...

Oh. Dawn swallowed, picking up on the notation for _runes_, and walked her fingers further across the map. There were other esoteric-looking notations, too; not the most encouraging sign.

"She's right, Xander," Dawn said, wincing. "You said you were afraid they were HYDRA; I think you were right. How much do you want to bet they infiltrated the Initiative the same way they did SHIELD? Sure would explain Walsh. And since that dude Loki showed up a few years back... it was probably only a matter of time before they started using more magic in their defensive measures."

"Magic," Xander repeated flatly. "These guys take superheroes apart and brainwash them, they've captured one of _my_ Slayers... and you're telling me I can't rescue her because of _magic_? Which is pretty much the only reason we're even still relevant in a world where there's aliens and giant armies of death robots?"

He ground his jaw; and Dawn could see the fury in the way he clenched his fingers, all the things that had kept them all up at night since Buffy had nearly been assassinated several months ago in New York. Dawn was at least as angry with the Avengers over that as she was grateful that Buffy had survived; there'd been more than one casualty in the extended Council during the coordinated attacks that day, and it never would have happened if they hadn't released Project Insight's target list as well as all the data SHIELD had on the Council in the process of exposing HYDRA. It might technically have been one of the least worst options for getting out of that mess, but Buffy was the big picture girl; Dawn never had been. She'd been majorly stressed even _before_ the youngest Slayer in San Francisco had disappeared on a patrol only to be spotted several hours later being wrestled out of a nondescript van.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down," Willow said, holding up a hand. "I can probably get through them eventually, but it's going to take time; runes aren't my strongest suit, and frankly we were amazingly lucky to get our hands on these plans in the first place."

"_Eventually_?" Xander threw up his hands, then turned away from the table, rubbing at his empty eye socket with the heel of one hand. "How did this even happen? How did none of us even know these guys were in San Francisco? I thought we had a program to watch for weird warehouse purchases. It seems like it's _always_ a warehouse. And it's _never_ as empty as it looks."

"So we can't send in a witch, and we don't dare send in another Slayer, but we don't dare just wait around..." Dawn bit her lip, thinking. Xander was going to volunteer, obvs. But they'd probably need at least one more skilled fighter so they could watch each other's back if they wouldn't have magic or super strength on their side.

"We can't send a normal human being either," Willow regretfully added, heading her off at the pass. "Between the guards, and the physical barriers... the only thing that's going to make it through all their security without being noticed is, like, an _insect_."

An insect? Now why did that sound familiar...?

Dawn snapped her fingers and pointed at Xander. "You and Buffy have been keeping an ear to the ground for new superheroes, right? Because sometimes they're just misidentified Slayers? You hear anything about that guy that can shrink his size? Vi said she overheard a couple of people in a bar talking about him recently, in context with that weird industrial building collapse. And there was that rash of news reports about an oversized ant straight out of _Them_, and that ginormous Thomas the Tank Engine toy that erupted out of the side of a house from a room it couldn't possibly have fit in. Willow said she didn't detect any magic there, right?"

She turned pleading eyes to her sister's best friend at that. Willow bit her lip, then nodded slowly. "Either it was too faint for me to pick up... or it's possible there could have been some kind of technological cause. I mean, no science _I_ know could do that- but we sorta pegged the needle on 'impossible' when we took down a god, never mind everything that's happened since. We practically live in a comic book as it is."

"You're talking about Ant-Man," Xander said, his fury visibly backing down a little as he thought about it. "Yeah, he's real, as far as I've heard, and he's local, but... I don't know. It's not like he's an Avenger, and he doesn't have any ties to us. You really think he'd help?"

"You said it yourself, we can't just leave her there," Dawn said, looking down at the blueprints again and covering the area they thought was the secure experimentation lab with her palm. "She's my friend too, Xander. And this Ant-Man guy- most people don't turn super-powered vigilante for no reason. So he does have some kind of skin in the game, even if we don't know what it is."

"All right, all right. I know a guy who knows a guy; but if he turns us down..." Xander sighed, then fished the phone out of his pocket.

"We do what we gotta do," Dawn replied, with a solemn nod.

* * *

Fortunately, the guy _didn't_ turn them down; he dropped out of the sky later that evening in a dorky-looking red and black full-body suit. _Literally_ dropped out of the sky, leaving foot-dents in the lawn- apparently, he'd _ridden a flying ant_ to find them.

Good grief, and Dawn had thought her life _before_ the Hellmouth's collapse had been weird.

"You ever think about another name than Ant-Man?" Xander asked skeptically, staring at the superhero after they welcomed him in and he retracted the face plate of his helmet. The guy was built lean and agile, with unruly short brown hair and a stupidly endearing face to go with his willingness to help; good thing Buffy wasn't there, or they'd probably have been adding her libido to the list of obstacles their plan needed to overcome.

"It's kind of a legacy," he shrugged. "And besides, what other name could I use that wouldn't sound worse? Believe me, I've thought about it. Resizing Guy? Micro Man? How about The Amazing Shrinky-Dink?"

Dawn stifled a chuckle, thinking over the ridiculous names some of the other superheroes used. Buffy's friend Hawkeye, for example, and the originator of the current trend, Iron Man.

"I don't know, I kind of like the Little Guy," she mused, prompted by thoughts of the other Avengers.

Xander snorted, getting the reference right away. "Like the opposite of the Big Guy?" he suggested, rounding his arms out to the sides, then made an angry expression and growled.

"Cute," Ant-Man replied, "but it would probably be weird to reflect my name off an Avenger, since the only time I've ever seen one in person, I was kind of breaking into a facility he was guarding."

That took Dawn aback; but since she kind of wanted to break into a particular Avengers facility and punch someone after half the conversations she had with her sister these days, she wasn't going to straight-out bounce him for it. "I'm gonna assume you had a good reason?"

He gave her a crooked smile. "I _did_ try to talk to him, first. But you know, heat of the moment, really needed one of the things he was guarding to save the world," he shrugged.

Willow and Xander exchanged a glance, but nodded slowly. It wasn't like they could throw stones, not with stolen rocket launchers and fertilizer bombs and who knew what else that could get them labeled terrorists in today's political landscape littering their pasts. "Yeah, we know how that goes."

"Besides, it doesn't pass the 'truth in advertising' litmus test," Ant-Man continued, breezily changing the subject. "You know, the ant technopathy thing. I think it freaks people out less if they see it and think, 'Oh, _Ant_ Man.'" He made quote marks with his fingers.

"Ant _technopathy_?" Willow's eyes went very round, and Dawn startled at that, too. _That_ part they hadn't heard yet. Though she guessed it explained the tabloid reports about that one little girl and her sugar cube eating pet, Fluffy.

He lifted a hand to one ear and grinned at them. "How'd you think I got that one to drop me off? Want me to demonstrate?"

"No, no, that's all right, I think we're good," Xander said, hastily. "You, uh. Just ants, right? Not- anything like, say, praying mantises?"

"Nah, just ants," he shrugged.

"_Okay_ then. Ant-Man it is. Unless...?" Dawn suggested.

"No, no real names; don't need yours either. I've got a daughter," he shrugged.

Point in his favor; plus, he'd been brutally upfront about issues that might cause trouble if they found out about them later. Xander looked to both Willow and Dawn, checking their trust levels, then sighed and nodded, just once.

"Okay," Dawn took it from there, clearing her throat. Then she gestured toward the still-spread plans.

"Like we said, it's a rescue mission. The security's ridiculous, natch, so what we were thinking is this..."

-x-


End file.
